Journal

Ebola & Me

You know when you achieve a thing, but then might not have, and then definitely did but it doesn’t count so well done and apologies all at once? That. That was my day. All a bit disheartening, and takes the fun out of stuff.

Meh.

My gloomy reaction is no doubt compounded by my struggle with the Ebola virus, which has laid me low this week. Some people have suggested that it might not be Ebola at all. A few have proposed that I might just have a cold, and should probably seek a qualified medical opinion before making such startling claims about my own health. I can assure you that there is no need for an independent opinion such as they describe, because I am a boy, and know the difference between bloody Ebola and a slight cold, thank you very much…

Both Cuckooand Kizuna turned up as paperbacks on Amazon.com in the last week. You should read them. Cuckoo is a novel by me, and a very lovely thing. Kizuna is an anthology I have a story in (‘Sharan Gali’), along with over seventy other authors, and from which all the profits will be used to help orphans in Japan created by the recent devastation there. You need to buy them both, if you haven’t already. Given that my internal organs are probably melting, and I probably won’t survive the weekend, either would be a lovely memento by which you can remember me . While I will obviously be unable to sign them, you are welcome to mark favourite sections by smearing some of my ashes on them. It’s much the same thing, really.